


Fancy Dinner

by ScribbleScribe (Sauny)



Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: Dinner, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 09:30:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6605626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauny/pseuds/ScribbleScribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peepers tries to prepare a romantic dinner for Sylvia</p>
<p>Tumblr: http://scribblewrites.tumblr.com/post/141575134514/subject-peepers-and-sylvia-go-on-a-romantic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fancy Dinner

The table was perfect. Clean cloth, polished glass, with a freshly picked Fongoid Rose resting centre-stage in a vase he’d managed to keep safe from the other inhabitants of the Skullship. There was nothing he could’ve done better, even if he did say so himself.  
  
Then she got there, and he remembered something.  
  
“Hey, uh, Peeps,” Sylvia stepped over, kit in her usual saddle with her usual hair style and her usual travel-caused smell, “What’s with all of… this? I thought we were having dinner.”  
  
“W-we are!” He pulled on his tie, suddenly claustrophobic in his suit, “Clearly this is a place for dinner.”  
  
“Or a ball,” she wandered around the space with her head pointed up at the ceiling. Peepers followed her gaze and cringed. He’d managed to string up a few fairy lights, and a large canopy that covered most of the angry scorch marks his lord had left on the ceiling, but now it just seemed overdone. In fact everything was, watching Sylvia pick at the multiple forks was enough to seal the thought in his head.  
  
“You have a lot of forks, and I mean a lot,” She chuckled, picking one up, “This is even swankier than Ol’ queen what’s-her-face’s party!”  
  
“Sourdough,” Peepers corrected, shrugging off his jacket and slinging it over the chair opposite Sylvia. She took the action as prompt to sit down, slinging her tail over the side of the chair as the commanding watchdog climbed up onto his.   
  
“So, who’s cooking the food?”  
  
His eyelid twisted, as he was offended, for a split second, “I cooked it.”  
  
“Then where is it?”  
  
“It’s- um,” He panicked, the watchdogs were meant to have brought the trays out by now. He checked his watch and spluttered.  
  
“Hey,” She grinned, reaching over the table and holding his shoulder, “No big deal, we’ll go get some pie.”  
  
He grimaced as she stood, “Not that grop awful pie that you eat, right?”  
  
“They sell other pies, eyeball,” She pulled on his hand, wrenching him away from his impeccably set up dinner and out of the Skullship’s dining hall.   
  
The door on the other side of the hall opened, several watchdogs peaking in with covered platters. With a quick glance around the room they all grinned, pulling the platters back to share in their own mess hall.


End file.
